


we're running out of time: the narry collection

by end_thistragedy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, a lot of hellos, multiple AUs where niall and harry are in love or at least trying to be, there'll be weddings yoga and medical internships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 16:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9499751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/end_thistragedy/pseuds/end_thistragedy
Summary: If Niall were some sort of romantic, he would think that he finally started living after he met Harry Styles.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> because i could never finish a narry ever. there are more wedding AUs than i knew what to do with

_ the wedding planner AU _

  
Niall, it turns out, doesn't know how to dance, which is a fact Harry finds infinitely more endearing than he should.    
  
He's getting married, Harry has to remind himself.  _ And you're planning the wedding _ .    
  
It's the proximity, he thinks. They've had too many almosts. They've been working together too closely. Late nights, early mornings, extended lunches spent putting together what Harry wants to be the perfect wedding. For Niall. To make him happy. To give him what he deserves, which, frankly, is nothing short of the world.    
  
But Harry figures teaching him to move on beat is the closest he can get.    
  
The problem is he's unnervingly cute and kindhearted and selfless to the point where Harry isn't sure he's real. Harry will admit that he's spent moments staring discreetly at him from over the screen of his laptop, out of the corner of his eye when they're sat side by side looking at catering menus, or from across the room as Niall tries on suit after suit, tugging at each tie with a nervous hand.    
  
It's now, especially, that Harry can't keep his eyes off of him, as Niall laughs with such bright eyes and seamlessly robots and shimmies into Harry's personal space, Harry's phone traitorously switched over from something light, fun, and upbeat to one considerably slower, the word love being thrown around mere ten seconds into the track.     
  
The world isn't quite fair when Niall bows at Harry and offers his hand, "May I have this dance?" with a barely contained smile and Harry thinks,  _ uh oh _ .    
  
When the song ends, Niall stares at him funny and Harry steps back and runs a hand through his hair, forgetting how short it still is and quickly running out of hair to comb through.    
  
He coughs into his fist instead, "Right. We should probably start keeping a list, no? Wouldn't want to forget the songs you like."   
  
When Harry tries to maneuver around him to get back to the table, Niall steps in front of him, says, "Harry," and slides his hand down Harry's arm until they're circling around his wrist, halting his movements.    
  
Harry stares down at the pattern of Niall's blue shirt and hopes to god he can't feel the way his pulse speed up.   
  
"Niall--we should--"   
  
But Niall tilts his head up and kisses him, pressing their lips together a tad bit too harshly, though Harry melts into the kiss anyway, ignoring all of the voices in his head telling him how much of a very bad idea this is as Niall backs them up against the table with sample decorations laid out on it.    
  
Harry doesn't think as he lets Niall lift him onto the surface, doesn't protest when Niall trails kisses down his jaw, when his fingers start tugging at the bottom of Harry's shirt to tug it off and over his shoulder, or when Niall pulls at Harry's belt with one hand while he unbuttons his own jeans with the other.    
  
//  
  
"He's cheating on me," Niall admits as they're lying on their backs on the carpet, shoulders just out of reach, but close enough to feel the heat radiating off each other's skin.   
  
Harry doesn't say anything, doesn't ask, is this you returning the favor? He feels sick to his stomach that he doesn't care.    
  
"It's been over for awhile now," Niall continues, "We're both too cowardly to admit it."    
  
"I don't think you're a coward," Harry says, and the laugh Niall responds with sounds sadder than Harry is comfortable with.    
  
"No," Niall says, "You wouldn't."


	2. Chapter 2

_the yoga instructor AU_

If Niall were some sort of romantic, he would think that he finally started living after he met Harry Styles.

But he’s not and, really, as always for the better part of four years of his life, it all starts and ends with Perrie and Zayn.  
  
After coming home from working a double shift at two different jobs that are preparing him for financing and disciplining him for a grad school program he hasn’t even thought about beginning to apply to, Niall falls asleep on the kitchen counter while trying to make toast.  
  
He’s woken up by Zayn’s gentle hand on his back and Perrie taking two burnt slices of toast out of the toaster and tossing them in the trash.  
  
It’s Perrie’s concerned gaze and Zayn’s soothing voice, saying, “I think you need a break, babes,” with the again so heavily implied that fully convinces Niall that he might be right.  
  
//  
  
“Yoga?” Niall shouts over the sound of the vacuum, running the appliance over a clearly missed spot in the carpet under the coffee table before coming to a full stop and shutting the thing off. “What? Pez, where are you? You’re supposed to be getting supplies for the bathroom."  
  
"Gloves, sponges and bleach!” Zayn calls in reminder from where he’s banging around in the kitchen. Niall hopes he’s not just making as much noise as he can so it sounds like he’s actually doing something.  
  
“Oh quit your whining. I’ve got it all here, just stopped to look at the books. I got caught up reading about mindfulness.”  
  
“Perrie, Zayn’s mom is coming in twelve hours!"  
  
"We’ll be fine. Relax, Niall. That’s what this book is telling me you need. Relaxation. Meditation. You’re in a deep funk and you need an outlet. Video games and drinking are the opposite of what you should be doing. I ought to throw all of that toxic mess in the trash.”  
  
“You’re speaking like you’re not the one who pulls all nighters playing shooter games with teenage boys in other countries."  
  
"I didn’t say it was toxic for me.”  
  
“What are you saying, then? Is this your way of finally getting me to do yoga with you?”  
  
“It’s not not that.” She’s smiling, Niall can tell, “Hear me out, though, Ni. It says you’re at high risk for depression the way you’re going. You’ve already been struggling with your anxiety. You can’t handle anymore.”  
  
She’s serious now and Niall feels her worry in his bones as he falls onto the couch, vacuum long forgotten.  
  
“Pez–”  
  
“Just think about it, all right. See you soon, love.” She hangs up quickly and Niall hopes she’s not tearing up alone in a grocery store.  
  
He knows he can’t tell Zayn or he'll worry that Perrie’s worrying and then worry for Niall and Niall will worry for both of them and they’ll all sit around crying and saying how much they love and care each other and it’ll just get to be too much.  
  
So when Zayn comes out of the kitchen carrying a dirtied loofa and wearing a frown on his face, Niall just says, “Think I’m going to try yoga."  
  
//

  
A few days later, Niall finds the book about mindfulness filled with colored tabs sat on the bar in the kitchen.  
  
The sight of it–the used state of it like it’d been marked up and highlighted diligently and with care–strikes something warm in his chest.  
  
He immediately pulls out his phone and brings up the group text between his two best friends.  
  
_Ok_ , he texts, _I’m ready to try_ _  
_  
//  
  
What Perrie failed to mention was the exclusivity of her yoga class and the fact that it was currently completely full.  
  
Perrie breaks this news when she glides into Niall's room at half past one in the morning and announces that she’s "so excited that I can’t sleep!”  
  
If Niall weren’t up doing lazy sets of crunches and pushups to get rid of excess energy he’d consider being irritated by the pep in her step. She eases into the conversation as she’s sat on his back while he attempts and fails to lift himself up with the arm strength he doesn't know why he ever thought he had, that she can’t wait until there’s a spot that opens up for him.  
  
"Wait, what?" Niall stops his attempts to push himself up barely an inch off the ground and taps Perrie’s knee until she rolls off of him. “So all of this was just talk?” He asks, collapsing onto his back beside her.  
  
“I wouldn’t suggest if it wasn’t possible. It’ll be fine. People are coming and going all the time. And Harry’s very lenient and welcoming. You’ll be in in no time.” She explains, “But he’s a hot commodity, Niall. So I was advised to say there’s no guarantee. But I just think it’d be good for you.”  
  
“Yeah,” Niall sighs, because she's never been wrong before, “Yeah, all right.”  
  
“In the meantime: keep doing these late night exercises. They always help you relieve stress. D'you need a massage?” Perrie asks, worry in her voice as she watches Niall prop himself up to be able to rub at his shoulder blades. “Could wake Zayn.”  
  
Niall thinks of the punch he’d received the last time he’d only gently caressed Zayn’s face to get him up in time for work and winces. “Nah. Just a weird pain. Think I’ll be all right."  
  
"If you’re sure.” Perrie begins to knead her own fingers into the spot anyway, humming like she's taken to lately, “You just wait until you meet Harry. He’ll fix you right up. You’ll see.”  
  
//

  
It’s about a week later when Perrie calls him from a Smoothie King where she's supposed to be getting the two of them one after successfully completing an intense 70 minute workout (while Zayn lounged on the couch and tossed raisins at them) and says, “You’re in! Casey finally went into labor so there’s a spot free. No way she’s coming back with twins on her hands."  
  
Niall rests his head on his hand, propped up in bed, taken by surprise, "Casey Evans? From school? She was pregnant?"  
  
"Please, Ni. That's not the point. I'll remind you to send a gift later. But did you hear me? You're in!"  
  
"I'm in." Niall repeats, hoping the feeling flooding his system isn't regret, but excitement. It's unlikely. "Are you sure about this?"  
  
"It's yoga. It's not the boxing ring. It's not like I'm sending you to your death. I wouldn't do that. I just know what you can do, is all." Perrie explains, voice dropping low like she doesn't want anyone to hear the next words but Niall, "I believe in you, you idiot. You should know that by now."  
  
Niall can't help but feel slightly more relaxed.  
  
//  
  
Niall shows up to the class and blushes and whispers at Perrie, "You didn’t tell me i was the only guy here.”  
  
Perrie shrugs her shoulders. “I told you he was a hot commodity. He’s the best. And,” she draws in closer like she’s telling a secret, “he’s not awful to look at.”  
  
Niall rolls his eyes and wants to bolt but then he thinks about his shitty jobs and his back and his mind and deflates. Maybe this class could really help him relax. It was worth a shot and he’s kind of an asshole for caring about being the only guy anyway.  
  
But when Harry walks into the room dressed in yoga pants, wearing a headband and neon yellow shoes, Niall feels more stressed than he’s ever been in his entire life.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“I know.” Perrie says, dazedly. Niall wonders if he should be worried for Zayn or not. But then scratches that thought because if Zayn gave a shit about group physical activity he’d be here mooning right alongside her.  
  
Harry notices him easily amongst the group which, of course he does, and smiles at him. His smile is lazy and sort of dopey, his dimples appearing and his eyes crinkling. It’s awful.  
  
He points a bony finger, “You’re new.”  
  
“Um-” Niall hadn’t expected this to be the kind of class where the instructor actually talked to his students. “I am.”  
  
“This is the infamous Niall. Works too hard and passes out from exhaustion at half past midnight everyday.”  
  
“That’s no good. I’m Harry.” Harry extends a hand and Niall shakes it. “Nice to finally meet you, Niall. I hope I can get you all sorted out.”  
  
“Yeah.” Niall says, faintly, then clearing his throat and releasing Harry’s hand, “I mean. Yeah. Yes. I want that. Thanks. Thank you.”  
  
Perrie snorts and says, “Jesus.” and Harry smiles between them, curiously. His eyes shine a bit in a charming way that can’t actually be a real thing–Niall won’t believe it. He has to wear the kind of contact lenses that make pretty curly headed boys even prettier.  
  
“Hmm. We’ll get you started immediately. You’re looking a bit tense, Niall."  
  
"I’ll bet he is.” Perrie mumbles.  
  
Niall is mortified. "I’m fine!“  
  
Harry doesn’t look very convinced. "Stick around anyway? At least for a bit. If you feel like you want to leave, then by all means, you can leave. But I can’t promise I won’t hold it against you.”  
  
“He can hold a mean grudge.” Perrie offers unhelpfully. “I wouldn’t mess with him.”  
  
“I’m staying.” Niall says, firmly.  
  
“Excellent! It’s past noon, I should get up there.”  
  
“Sure, yeah. Duty calls,” Niall wishes he didn’t open his mouth and say words to other people.  
  
It’s too late to take it back as Harry does something with his eye that might have been a wink or a twitch and breezes away in an almost angelic way that Niall is about 98% sure was in his head.  
  
He must look pitiful or mesmerized or in a state equally engulfing and embarrassing because he feels Perrie’s hand on his shoulder and jolts back into the present and a more stable state of mind where Harry with his golden halo isn’t dimpling and shining his way through every inch of his thoughts.  
  
He’d whine a bit just out of pure frustration and fall to the ground in a puddle of adoration if Perrie wouldn’t take the piss out of him for the rest of his life.    
  
Class goes exceptionally well. Harry is very capable despite fumbling a bit like a baby deer just learning to stand on its own (which he honest to God giggles and apologizes for, making everyone in the room tilt their heads slightly to the side in awe) and his presence at the front of the room—his slow, somehow enchantingly deep voice guiding the class into positions–is simply just therapeutic.  
  
Niall has never felt so relaxed in his entire life, but he’d be damned if he admitted to anyone in that room.  
  
The feeling must have been shared as the class came to an end with Harry’s cheesy, “Thank you for coming. I hope your mind is peaceful. You deserve it,” and everyone had dazed and pleased smiles on their faces as they chatted as softly as voices could get while gathering up their belongings.  
  
Perrie disappears to the bathroom with a telling wink and Niall is forced to linger in the room, folding up Perrie and his mats--this ghastly yellow thing still with the sticker tag from the department store he’d purchased it from mere hours before.  
  
Harry is sitting directly across the room on a bench identical to the one Niall is sat on. He’s putting on socks and shoes awfully slow, not like Niall is doing anything as inane as watching him. But when he’s not not exactly watching Harry, he can definitely feel Harry’s eyes on him and it’s a bit maddening. When he glances up fully at wits end, he meets Harry’s eyes, and receives a closed lipped smile in return.  
  
It might even be worse than the full blown masterpiece he’d sported far too many times in the past hour and a half.  
  
“Hi.” Harry says.  
  
Niall swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. “Hello.”  
  
“I hope you liked the class.”  
  
“It was all right, yeah.”  
  
“Just all right?” Harry feigns offense, an abnormally large hand going to what Niall can only assume by association is a beautifully firm chest. “Ouch.”  
  
Niall reddens, unsure what it is exactly that he’s embarrassed about. Existing, maybe. “I mean–it was great! Sorry.”  
  
“On a scale of 1-10. How was it?”  
  
“A seven.” Niall replies, slow enough to prevent himself from admitting a 10. “Nearly an eight.”  
  
“Well I’d say that’s better than ‘all right.’” Harry says, and honestly. Niall would drop his entire life savings if it would get Harry to cede his halo and stop shining so distractedly. “I’m glad you came, Niall.” He says Niall's name like he means it. Niall doesn’t know what that means but he imagines it entails Harry putting all of himself into it, as if he’s hanging himself on a line with every letter. It’s quite frankly the worst thing he’s ever heard. “You look less like you’re going to explode any moment.”  
  
“Well I guess I owe that to you.” Niall allows himself to say.  
  
“I mean–you kind of do. I wasn’t going to say anything.” Harry’s smiling, cheeks dimpling. Niall's going to blame his sweating on the warmth of the room. Although he’d been nearly shivering not minutes ago, but that’s beside the point.  
  
“Anyway!” Niall blurts, before he can sweat any further under the heat of Harry’s gaze. “I should–"  
  
He says it at about the same time Harry speaks deliberately louder, "You could make it a thing?"  
  
And Niall snaps his mouth shut and meets Harry’s hopeful eyes and immediately regrets it.  
  
He actually says, "Huh?” He hopes it translates as a response to Harry’s question and not a direct reaction to the endearing look on Harry’s face.  
  
“I mean!” Harry speaks too loud and frowns slightly at himself, but it’s so quick that Niall thinks he may have imagined it. He considers trying to convince himself that he imagined this entire day and is still sleeping peacefully in his bed and not alone in a room with someone who looks like he was stolen straight out of his fantasies.  
  
“Uhm.” Harry says, “What I meant to say was that the door is always open? If you need it? From what Perrie told me–”  
  
Slightly embarrassed, Niall brings an already clammy hand to his clammy neck, “Perrie likes to exaggerate,” he deflects, “Spins stories, that one.”  
  
Harry nods his head with an intense look of understanding like Niall's said something a lot more substantial instead of just stringing words together and hoping they’ve found themselves into a coherent sentence. “Exaggerated or not, Niall, it seems like you need a steady outlet. All of that stress can seriously harm you in the long run. Especially if you’re going to still try to juggle so many responsibilities and refuse help from the people around you.”  
  
It’s Niall's turn to frown, glancing down at Perrie’s mat with a slight glare as if it’s the one that’s betrayed him. “You seem to know a lot about me.”  
  
Harry doesn’t look ashamed, still sporting that serious and concerned look that Niall has to tell himself is probably just a method of convincing people to keep coming to his class and not a genuine sign of affection geared towards Niall.  
  
“Perrie and I get lunch as much as we can.” Harry explains. Niall suddenly feels like he’s walked into a trap.  
  
“Oh?” He croaks, “Perrie didn’t–oh. Hmm. She didn’t tell me that."  
  
Harry hums, clueless to Niall's mpending meltdown. "She and Zayn speak very highly of you.” He continues quickly before Niall can interrupt, saying, “They’re just worried about you,” like he knows Niall's habit of reacting before thinking, and wants Niall to understand the genuine concern of all parties involved, but honestly, Zayn, too? It suddenly feels like a set up.  
  
“What. Um,” Niall clears his throat, “What else do you know about me?"  
  
It’s not meant to be any type of bridge into a come on, Niall doesn’t think he’s capable of something like that at this point, just a concern for his own reputation from the word of mouth of Perrie and Zayn, but the barely there glint in Harry’s eyes signifies trouble.  
  
"Not nearly enough.” Harry says, and if Perrie hadn’t hummed her way back into the room at that point, Niall honestly doesn’t know what might have happened–the things that would’ve been said, the clothes that would’ve been shed.  
  
“All right, boys?” She says, smiling in a gorgeously mischievous manner, standing between them with her hands on her hips. “All acquainted?"  
  
It takes Harry a minute to pull his eyes away from Niall and Niall could swear he could feel him tightening his grip to get himself to tug away. It’s. It’s something, is what it is.  
  
"All good. I was just telling Niall that Casey’s spot is open to him anytime. Or all the time, which I highly recommend.”  
  
Perrie pulls Niall into her side and he goes against his own accord, ducking his head to her chest. “Oh don’t worry, I’ll get him here. By tomorrow, I’ll find him curled up in a ball on the living room floor and he’ll be begging to see you again.”  
  
Niall, sadly, thinks that might be true.  
  
//  
  
When Niall opens his eyes, Zayn is hovering above his reclined body on the couch, eating a bowl of cereal and staring at him.  
  
“Jesus!” Niall reacts belatedly, sitting up like he’d been doused in water. He thinks it could be a Pavlovian reaction to the feeling of Zayn’s presence when he’s between sleep and alertness. “Zayn, what the fu–”  
  
“How was yoga?” Zayn says around his spoon, a dribble of milk runs down his chin and he lets it.  
  
“Fine.” Niall grunts. “Why are you still here?”  
  
“Mental day."  
  
"Another one?” Niall says, swinging his legs over the side of the couch and planting his feet on the ground. One of his socks is dangling off his foot and he tugs at it, “Third one this week."  
  
Zayn shrugs and sits directly in Niall's lap. "Perrie said you met Harry."  
  
Niall feels his traitorous face go red. "Yeah?”  
  
“And apparently had a lovely chat since he offered to give you Casey’s spot permanently.”  
  
Niall is immediately defensive, "He said the door is open. There’s a difference.”  
  
“Is there?” Zayn looks amused.  
  
“Shove off, Zayn.”  
  
Niall doesn’t push him off his lap, but sets his hands on Zayn’s hips and slides him easily onto the couch cushion beside him.  
  
It’s telling of their relationship when Zayn doesn’t even react at being maneuvered, just tries not to tip his bowl of cereal.  
  
“What’d you say, then? Did you tell him you have a very particular set of skills? Skills that make you a daydream dressed like a nightmare?"  
  
"I’m impressed by your ability to misquote two entirely different things.”  
  
“Niall,” Zayn says.  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
“I never force you into doing anything you don’t want to do. But it’s like you’ve been deteriorating right in front us and it’s–” Zayn tries to catch his eye, but Niall doesn’t let him because he knows what’s coming. Zayn sighs the confession, “It’s worrying us, a bit.”  
  
Niall can never prevent his guilt from consuming him. “Zayn–”  
  
“Just want you to be happy, Niall.”  
  
Niall would ask, what makes you think that I’m not? But the days and nights when he wasn’t working or drowned under a mountain of crippling anxiety spent locked in his room and burrowed beneath his blankets tell a different story. As do the days he slips in between Zayn and Perrie on the couch and they both wrap their arms around his shoulders or his waist to let him fall asleep peacefully.  
  
Niall deflates, thinking about the state of his mental and physical health–having been pushed aside for more pressing issues out of his control. His busy mind and busy schedule consuming him entirely. He wonders how terribly it’s affected both Zayn and Perrie. How much unnecessary stress and anxiety it’s added to their plates.  
  
He feels like an asshole. A needy, pathetic asshole.  
  
“Ok.” He says, swallowing that invisible lump in his throat that only makes an appearance when he thinks too hard about how much he loves and appreciates the people in his life.  
  
Zayn looks startled, and slightly confused. “Ok? What do you mean?”  
  
Because he forgot that Zayn can’t actually hear his thought process, he says, “I’ll take Casey’s spot. I’ll keep seeing Harry.”  
  
Zayn smiles, that warm smile of his that makes Niall feel like he’s done good. “Good,” he says, “Because Perrie already told him you would."  
  
//  
  
The next class is that same week on Thursday night. Niall carries his bright yellow mat and unrolls it beside Perrie while she chats about nothing, complains and gushes about Zayn, and asks Niall to replace the light bulb in the hall when he gets a chance.  
  
Niall's barely listening, doing mindless arm stretches for no reason other than to look like he knows what he's doing, and watching the door carefully, waiting.  
  
It's nearly seven. Harry's running late.  
  
"Is there a ten minute rule?"  
  
Perrie levels him with a look, "Hush."  
  
Harry shows up fifteen minutes late with a smile on his terrible face, and smeared lipstick on his cheek, announcing with great pride, "I've just helped deliver a baby!"  
  
Apparently a woman on the street car went into labor somewhere between the novelty toy shop and the mattress store front on the corner of Westport and Mercer Ave.  
  
The nearest hospital hasn't actually been near at all and Harry, bright eyed and serious, let the woman squeeze his hand as he deliberated on their options. Like a lightbulb switching on above his head, he'd suggested the Mattress Co. as an impromptu hospital room.  
  
The woman, whose name was Mia, hadn't let go of his hand as she was guided off the car and ushered quickly into the store.  
  
There seems to be a collective sign of adoration when Harry finishes recounting his story and Niall is sat crosslegged on his mat by the end of it, staring at Harry as if he's sporting an awe inspiring halo above his head.  
  
He feels lightheaded and distracted enough that by the time class ends, he doesn't remember a damn thing but the slight glow in Harry's demeanor as he guided the lovesick group through a series of intermediate positions that should have been difficult for the collective's first time.

He's out of it enough to the point where he doesn't hear his name being called from the front as the room is cleared out, or the singsong _I'll see you at home_ from Perrie as she legs it out of the room along with the rest of the class.

He only realizes he's been left alone with Harry again when he feels a hand on his elbow and he turns to meet his bright eyed gaze.

“Hi again.” He says.

“Hi,” Niall responds, barely containing his anxiety in being touched.

Harry doesn't notice, “I was wondering if maybe you'd like to grab lunch?” He asks. “I would've invited Perrie but she kind of ran off.”

Niall stares at his nose, eyes flicking down to his mouth, avoiding eye contact for fear of reacting too soon. “It's becoming a habit.”

Harry hums and looks thoughtful when he says, “I kind of think she's trying to set us up.”

Niall doesn't even blink. “Looks like.”

“Is it--um.” Harry starts, running an honest to god nervous hand through his hair. “Is it working?”

Niall can feel his heart in his stomach. “Think it might be.”

“Oh,” Harry grins, “Right. Okay. That's--yeah. I wasn't expecting--” He stops, a blush flooding his cheeks, “Lunch, then?”

Niall's nod is short and curt, like he's sealing a deal. “I'd like that.”

//

They go to a 3:00 happy hour and get a table full of half priced appetizers.

Niall gets a sangria and lets Harry ask him questions that he promises to answer honestly and as quickly as he can. Everything is going well and Niall has managed not to be questioned into revealing too much.

That is, until Harry asks, “What are you studying, Niall?"  
  
"Architecture. But, like,” He flaps a hand, conveying exactly nothing, “The landscaping bits."  
  
"Well say it like you mean it, come on now, Niall. That's all right, isn't it?"  
  
"Yeah. Yes. It's. Well, I've graduated now, but. I mean it was all right, I suppose." He manages.

  
"Was?” Harry raises an eyebrow. “So you're no longer interested in the landscaping bits?"  
  
Niall shakes his head, "Of course I am. It's just that. Towards the end there I'd gotten tired. Like-- _the_ tired. And I'm. I'm not done, is what I'm trying to say. I don't think. There's more for me to do.” He explains, “I just need a break, is all."  
  
"Gap year?" When Niall nods solemnly like it's something he's ashamed of, which he's not exactly not ashamed of it, Harry bobs his head back seemingly understanding something he hadn't conveyed. "Oh. Oh! You're one of those, then?"  
  
“Uh oh. One of what?”  
  
“The smart ones. But not one of the ones who want you to know it. But one of those who don’t know it.”  
  
“Harry, what are you–”  
  
“See, I decided to double major as an undergrad. Psychology and business management. Had no clue what I wanted to do with it. Still don’t, actually. A bit useless unless now that I may try to open up my own studio. But what’s the fun in that? It’ll fail before it even opens. You, though.” Harry leans forward on his elbows, that glint in his eye he had the first time they met. “You could take over the world, Niall Horan."  
  
Niall nearly says something terribly cheesy like and _you can't? you took over min_ e. But really he’ll save himself the embarrassment.  
  
"That’s a big conclusion.”  
  
“But not wrong?”  
  
"That's not what I meant. It’s landscaping. I think you've got the wrong idea about what it is I'm supposed to be doing."  
  
Harry shrugs, leaning back in his seat and taking a drink from his tumbler. "Really? Enlighten me then."  
  
"It's not life changing work. It's just really difficult  and stressful and demanding. It's all about deadlines, spontaneous bouts of creativity at three a.m. and more deadlines. It was a competitive study and I know for a fact it's even more competitive out there--in the real world where the high letter grades don't matter and the criticism you get makes or breaks whether you can feed yourself."  
  
"So it's no cake walk, Niall, I get it. But what is? Look at you: you've made it out. On the other side--"  
  
"Barely."  
  
Harry frowns, "You're alive, aren't you? Is that not something to celebrate? Under all of that stress: all the late nights and early mornings, the lack of sleep, the intimidation of your peers, and the crippling fear of your professors, you're here. And you're healing. You're making moves to try to gain back the peace of mind you lost and that's amazing, Niall. That's so important, I want you to understand that."  
  
Niall feels frustrated. "You don't know me, Harry. You don't understand what you're saying. I'm not--I'm not as strong as you think I am."  
  
"Strong?" Harry very nearly scoffs, "What makes a person strong? Their physical and mental strength and ability? No. Being strong has nothing to do with your ability." He explains, "You're strong because you're here, another person might be strong because they're not. It's not a set thing and it's not determined by whether or not you have a disability, you know? It's fluid."  
  
Niall shakes his head, feeling tense with a growing irritation that feels like a tightening in his chest. "I don't believe that, Harry. That's just. That's wishful thinking. That's not real no one thinks like that."  
  
"Isn't that the problem? Isn't that why we're all just losing faith in ourselves?" He asks, "We need to change the way we think."  
  
Niall stares down at the table, not wanting to indulge Harry's idealistic thoughts. It's not that he thinks Harry's lost his own mind, it's just that Niall's had experience where that sort of thinking can rip a person apart.

“I don't know,” he says anyway, “I guess.

Harry gives him a _see?_ look and leans back in his chair.

//

It becomes a thing. Lunch.

Niall doesn't think it's a thing the next week after class when Harry approaches him almost shyly before saying, “Sangrias and half apps?”

It's only after the third time that Niall understands what's happening.

“They're dating!” Perrie announced to their apartment at large (so, Zayn) when Niall came back from date number three.

He froze in the doorway, keys still in the lock, and sighed. “A little louder, Pez. Don't think they heard you next door.”

And, despite that, he didn't deny it. They were doing--something. Whether he'd call it dating, he's, well he's very sure.

And as it continues into weeks, he figures he can even say they're friends.

He learns enough about Harry to fill a novel, or a very detailed police report.

He learns that Harry has these spur of the moment ideas that Niall attributes to his tendency to never remain still for more than five minutes.  
  
He learns that he's always been fidgety, fingers constantly in his mouth, teeth biting into his knuckle, nibbling at his nails, biting into his lip until they're red and irritated. Niall has watched him try to manage himself, pulling at his lip instead, fiddling with the rings on his hands, or sliding his hands underneath his thighs to rid himself of the temptation altogether.  
  
He's watched him float from one end of his apartment to another, cleaning and rearranging, always singing or talking softly to himself, desperate to fill the air around him with distracting sounds because he hates being alone with his own thoughts.

He meets his hamster and his cat, named Stella and Luna respectively, the stars and the moon.

And he learns that Harry might be the most corny person of all when he gasps and grabs Niall's hands and says, “Now I've finally got the sun.”

He gets a justified kick for that one.


	3. Chapter 3

_the greys anatomy circa first three seasons probably medical internship/residency AU where Niall doesn’t know how to communicate like, at all_

Louis gets fed up and locks them in a supply closet.

“Hi.” Harry says.

Niall reddens immediately and says, “Hi.”

It takes mere seconds of hesitation before Niall is closing the space between them and pulling Harry into a kiss. Harry responds by gripping Niall’s waist and slamming his body against one of the shelves, eliciting a pleased grunt from Niall whose grip on Harry’s shirt tightens.

He lifts Niall off the ground to set him on an accessible shelf and Niall makes the most obscene noise that makes Harry want to die because God that was all he wanted to hear in life, that was his goal.

After a few minutes of relentless making out, Niall’s phone goes off loudly, jolting them both away from each other. When Niall goes to retrieve it, Harry watches as he bends over in just his briefs, bite his lip, and nervously palms the back of his neck.

He frowns down at the screen and nonsensically checks the time on the watch that hugged his wrist. “Shit.”

“You have to go?” Harry doesn’t really mean to sound so pleading and desperate, but he thinks he’s beyond salvaging any self-respect he may have left.

“Yeah,” Niall responds, and there’s no further explanation as he’s rushing to put his clothes back on, gathering whatever belongings he’d had on him before things went to hell.

Harry says, “Okay,” but Niall wasn’t looking at him, unsubtly avoiding eye contact.

“I’ll see you, yeah?” It’s not really a question and Niall is walking towards the door, hesitating with his hand on the knob, his eyes unimpededly on the ground.

Harry stays silent and waits, a little confused. He hears Niall make the most pitiful sigh he’s ever heard before he turns back around to give him the softest kiss on the cheek before turning and he leaving the room.

Harry stares at the door, wide eyed, and feels heat pulsing under the surface of his skin.

//

Louis is relaying the details of a particularly gruesome patient story, using animated facial expressions and hand gestures when someone elbows Harry’s side.

Harry blinks out of his dissociative state, turning his head to Liam who looks on at him with those worried and kind eyes of his that tend to make Harry feel guilty even when he’s done nothing wrong.

“Are you all right?”

Louis had ceased telling his story, interrupted, and Harry can’t remember how long he’d been checked out.

“Yeah, of course,” Harry replies, coughing into his hand to clear his throat.

“Is it Niall?” asks Liam, who exchanges a wary look with Louis who was being unnaturally quiet.

Harry was a bit offended. “No, why would it be Niall?”

“Because you’ve been staring at his table this entire time,” Liam says.

Harry can feel his pulse speed up as he lifts his head up to where he’d been staring and—god. That wasn’t his intention at all.

Niall was sitting with a few of the physicians who had immediately taken a liking to him, just like everyone else in their godforsaken hospital.

“I think he’s noticed you,” Louis adds.

And Harry thinks so, too, as Niall glances up and is momentarily halted in his conversation, before turning his gaze away to pretend it didn’t happen.

“I take it my plan didn’t work out, then?” Louis asks.

And no, not even close. But Harry shrugs. He doesn’t really know where they stand. It’s been close to a week since their rendezvous in the supply closet and Harry has managed to avoid the situation completely. He hadn’t even had enough alone time with Louis and Liam to discuss his personal life, they’d been so busy. He wishes they were still swamped with work in order to avoid talking about it any longer.

“What happened? Did you talk or what? You’re looking a bit tense,” Louis says.

“You haven’t touched your food,” Liam observes, “Please eat your food.”

Harry looks down at his food, then back up at Niall, “I’m not hungry.”

“I think you should eat,” Liam presses, “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

Louis waves a hand at Liam, silencing him. “No, hush. What the hell happened, Harry?”

He looks up at his friends, frowning at their worried faces. “Nothing happened. I’ve been feeling sick. This has nothing to do with him.”

“I could believe that if you would look at us the whole time and not him while you say it,” Liam says, “You know we’re here for you.”

“Thanks, but it’s not as serious as you’re making it. I’m fine, boys. All right? Just tired.”

They’d been working a hectic schedule for the entirety of the week and it was starting to get to Harry more than usual. He latches onto that, using the moment to gather up his food and make an escape. “I might head home, actually. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

This did nothing to remedy the looks on their faces, “Okay, but text us later?” Louis says, as he’s pulling out his own phone. Harry knows he’s preparing to text Zayn to make sure he’s at the apartment so he can keep an eye on him. Harry hates the way they combine forces to gang up on him, smothering him with unnecessary attention when he shows signs of being even remotely sad.

“Yeah,” he promises anyway, “I will.”

When he leaves the room, he manages to avoid Niall’s gaze as he watches him leave.

//

Harry and Liam are in the break room, nursing cups of coffee and Liam's got his textbook open, as they're quizzing each other on an upcoming test, when Niall walks in.

Liam is talking about ways to permanently damage the metacarpals when he catches sight of blonde hair and stops talking. Harry follows his eyes and tenses up just as Niall meets his eyes, and that shouldn't hurt so much.

"We can leave." Liam says, and he looks like he wants to bolt. Without Louis there to break the ice, he hates awkward situations.

Harry shakes his head. "No, that would mean that I'm affected by him, which I'm not. We're not a divorced couple, Li. We never were a couple. We can be in the same room."

Liam glances quickly at where Harry assumes Niall is, having his back turned, and then seems to relax. "If you're sure," Liam says, "I wish you'd tell me what happened."

Harry fingers at the Styrofoam of his cup, "it's not worth the time. You'd probably laugh anyway because it's not as dramatic as we're treating it." Harry admits. It could all be easily resolved if Niall would just talk to him. They made out, okay. They had sex, great. And now Niall's treating Harry as if they'd had multiple drunken hookups. It was overdramatic.

"Let me be the judge of that." Liam says.

Harry shakes his head. "I just---if he wants to act like a child, then he can do that. I'm not going to let it get to me." even though it had, badly. He closes his eyes and he sees Niall.

"When did you become the mature one." Liam teases.

Harry smiles, a little weakly. "Since you fell in love with the most immature person of them all." He says, suddenly feeling like Niall's watching them, remembering that he was in the room.

Liam looks over Harry's shoulder and then back at Harry in an attempt to play it off. "you'll work it out."

"Yeah, that's the thing." Harry says, "I don't think we will."

//  
  
It's a Friday and he’s at his locker, pulling on his coat when he feels a hand on his arm. He doesn’t even have time to react before he's being bodily yanked into an empty room, the door being closed and locked behind him.

It's not a surprise when Harry composes himself and looks up to see Niall staring at him with intense blue eyes, his hair disheveled to the point where it looks like he's been running his hands through it, over stressed, thinking too much.

"What--"

And Harry is being pushed back, losing his footing, but Niall is there again to catch him, pulling him by a flap of Harry’s coat and crashing their lips together. Harry makes a strangled sound that resembles an animal being crushed and exhales into the kiss. Niall doesn't waste time before he's got his hands inside of Harry’s coat, running his hands up Harry’s sides until he can push the coat off, and onto the ground. Harry lets himself be manhandled until Niall's got him down to his tshirt and is fumbling blindly at his scrubs. Harry’s mind is muddled and filled with a string of jumbled words and he slips his hand down the front of Niall's pants and god, that's the sound that Harry wants to swim in. When Niall finally pulls down Harry’s scrubs and gets his hand wrapped around him, Harry thinks they're not entirely lost.

//  
  
Niall isn't at the hospital the next Monday and Harry runs up beside Cathy, a nurse that Niall is always helping, and asks her where he might be.

"Are you Harry?" she asks, and Harry tightens his grip on his shoulder bag and nods his head. "Yeah?"

She smiles at him, brightly, like she knows something that he doesn't. "It's so nice to meet you." She says, "But he's gone to visit his parents for a few days. He'll be back Thursday."

Harry hates the feeling of disappointment that floods his chest. "Oh." he says, "Do you by any chance have his number?"

Her smile gets even brighter, more intense, and she nods. "Yes, of course. But my phone's back in my locker. Could you meet me outside of there at two? That's my lunch break."

Harry nods his head again, "Yeah, I'll be there. Thank you."

Cathy smiles, again, always, "No problem. It was really nice to meet you."

Harry can't help but frown and respond politely, before turning and rushing to the locker room.

//  
  
Harry gets the number from Cathy and he, Louis, and Liam spend their time needed to be studying to stare at Harry’s phone. They're in one of the breakrooms because Liam had actually wanted them to be focused and to actually get work done for once or they were never going to become successful anythings, but Harry had come to them with the news and both Louis and Liam had pushed their books aside.

"Well this is intense." Louis comments.

"What are we doing? He’s not going to call." says Liam.

Harry stares at the number on the screen. "What do I say?"

"You tell him you want to have sex." says Louis.

Harry tries to ignore the blush that fills his cheeks. "I don't want to bootycall him."

"Bootytext. And why not? That seems to be the only thing the two of you know how to do properly."

Harry glares at Louis and Louis raises his hands. "Fine, I'll shut up."

Liam reaches out and rubs Harry’s back, “You have to do something.”

Harry knew that. He did. He just didn’t know what. “Okay,” He says, grabbing his phone and opening up a text message. He bites his lip as he types, rolling his eyes at himself before pressing send. “There,” he says, placing the phone on the table.

Liam and Louis both glance at each other before Louis grabs the phone and reads the text. He scoffs and looks up at Harry, “‘Hi?’ Are you serious? You didn’t even leave your name.” Liam unnecessarily grabs Louis’ hand to pull the screen closer while Louis bolts on, “Are you now incapable of normal human interaction?”

Harry goes to reach for his phone, but it’s Liam that blocks him and suddenly he hates the fact that they’ve become friends.

“You need to try again,” Liam says, honestly.

“I should have never gotten his number in the first place,” Harry says.

“No, you should’ve consulted us before you sent off a stupid text,” Louis retorts. “I’m sending your name because you’re an idiot.”

Harry tries to reach for his phone again, but Louis smacks his hand away.

“You don’t deserve a phone.”

“Give it back now,” Harry demands, “Louis.”

“Saying my name in a warning tone is not--wait, hold on. He responded.”

Harry hates that his pulse quickens. “What? What does it say? Give me my phone. Now. Give. It.” He’s struggling by the end and Louis is enlisting in Liam’s help to calm him down as he says, “He says hi.”

Harry manages to get his phone, punching Liam in the side and playfully smacking Louis in the face. "Hi." He says, and he's probably blushing. Badly. Because that's a word. And it came from Niall. "What do I say now?" he looks up at his friends, desperate.

"Anything but hi."

"For the love of God." adds Louis.

Harry types slowly, _we should talk_ , and presses send before showing his friends. Louis still doesn’t approve, but a new text arrives before he can go on about it.

“He says, ‘I know,” Harry supplies, “I think i’m in love with him.”

“No, you’re not. You just like the mystery of it all. Shut up. Tell him to find you when he gets back.” Louis says.

Harry types out another message, _not over text in person. find me when you get back?_

He's proud of that one as he shows Louis and Liam and Liam tells him to add something at the end that seems a bit flirty.

Harry places two x's at the end of his message and presses send. There's nothing that can come off too forward when they've already seen each other faces when they come.

//  
  
The day Niall comes back, Harry is so busy with cramming for the exam, he forgets their conversation. He wakes up on a couch, with his books and supplies in various locations, but this time he’s in the doctor’s lounge, with extra bodies surrounding him. He kicks the nearest limb and it moves jerkily, the body it belongs to rolling over.

"Get up, you idiots." His head is in a lap, and it only takes for its owner to unintentionally smack his head for him to know it's Liam. Harry sits up and punches Liam in his thigh to get him to wake up quicker and then swings his legs over to put his feet on Louis' butt, kicking him again. "We have to go. Get up."

Louis moans and mumbles an obscenity and Harry laughs. "That was rude."

"Where are we." Liam yawns. "Did we fall asleep here?"

"Obviously." Louis says, clearly, which means he's probably ready to face the day.

"We studied until we couldn't keep our eyes open. I'm proud of us." Harry give Louis' butt one more jostle before he stands to stretch, glancing at the clock and sighing. "We have an hour and a half before the exam. I need coffee."

"Second that." Liam says.

"Mmmph." says Louis, which means he probably wanted tea instead and Harry rubs the sleep out of his eyes and says, "I'll be right back. I'll get you your croissants as well, Liam."

"Thank you!" Liam says, "And don't forget--"

"The grape jam. I know." Harry says, "I'd never."

Harry left the room, knowing that the two would be fast asleep again when he came back. He immediately hops on the elevator and presses the lower level to get to the cafeteria. He closes his eyes and leans against the wall, still tired. After the exam, he would go home and sleep until the next day.

When the elevator dings, Harry opens his eyes and prepares to step off, already smelling the fresh bacon from the kitchen. When the doors finally open, he’s taken aback. "Oh." He freezes against the wall, gripping the bars.

Niall blinks back at him, his thermos in hand. Zayn looks him up and down and feels a twinge of sadness at how tired he looks. His skin seemed even paler than usual.

“Hi,” Harry finishes, belatedly.

Niall steps onto the elevator and Harry forgot where he was, what he was doing, where he was going, was he supposed to be doing something?

Niall presses a button and the doors close and Harry is trapped. “Oh. I was supposed to--”

“Hi,” Niall says, and Harry stares at him.

“You look tired,” Harry says.

“So do you,” he responds.

“We need to talk,” Harry says, and he thinks he's backing himself into the corner a bit.

“You said that.”

And he's not losing it when he thinks Niall is following him, into his corner. His safe corner. "I really want to kiss you." Harry says, being honest. "But we should talk first. We need to talk, Niall."

The elevator finally dings and the door opens, but Niall is quick to stop it from opening all the way, pressing more buttons, not allowing anyone else in.

Niall returns to his position in front of Harry and nods his head. "Okay. After the exam?"

Harry nods, "Yes. Talking. No sex. Somewhere public."

"We can get lunch." suggests Niall. "Do you like pizza?"

"Is that a real question."

Niall smiles, stepping back and taking a sip from his thermos. "All right, then. Pizza and talking, no sex. After the exam."

"I think that does it." Harry replies, exhaling as quietly as he can. Jesus Christ.

"You look great in the morning, by the way." Niall says, as the door opens again and he's stepping off the elevator.

Harry stays in his corner and swallows. "Okay." He says.

Niall gives him a little wave and as the doors shut, Harry can barely refrain himself from shrinking to the ground.

//  
  
Niall is waiting outside, freezing, and Harry offers to drive them.

He'd told Louis and Liam that he and Niall were just going to talk and Louis made a comment about how that wasn't going to happen as smoothly as he plans.

"He stares at you a lot. Like he wants to rip your clothes off with, like, his teeth." It kind of sucks when Liam doesn't say anything to debunk this statement.

And Harry hates it when Louis is right, because he feels Niall's intense gaze on him the entirety of the ride and it makes him squirm in his seat. Talking. No sex.

But it hits the limit when they're sitting at a booth and Harry is trying to look at the menu and Niall keeps staring at him. "You have to stop doing that." He cracks.

"Doing what?"

Harry set the menu down and bravely looks right into Niall's eyes, mimicking his gaze. "This." he says, and Niall laughs.

Harry really fucking wanted to drown inside that laugh.

You want me to stop looking at you?"

"Well, no. But I want you to stop looking at me like that."

"Is it bad that I find you attractive?"

"No, that's great. Thank you, but if I'm trying to talk to you about slowing down a bit, you can't look at me like that. Okay?"

"Okay." Niall agrees, but he's still doing it, staring at him with those deep blue eyes, and trying not to laugh.

Harry rolls his eyes. "Let's just order, all right?"

And when Niall chuckles and his eyes sparkle even brighter, Harry thinks he's just a little fucked.


	4. Chapter 4

_the “we met at a wedding and hooked up before the reception” AU_

Harry sees Niall standing--or frowning at the chocolate fountain and he leaves Zayn to chat up a nice looking blonde to go chat up his own brunette.

"You didn't tell me you were apart of the wedding party."

Niall startles a bit, flicking his eyes over Harry before returning to his staring contest with the fountain. "It never really came up."

"Fair point." Harry says, turning to lean against the table, folding his arms across his chest. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Have you been watching me?"

"A little." Harry responds, honestly, smirking.

Niall lifts his shoulders, “Been watching the chocolate pour down the drain and trying to figure out how it's being cycled. You fill it here, yeah, but then where does it all go? How does it shoot back up and pour out again at the top?"

Harry blinks a few times, then, "Are you drunk?"

Niall chuckles, a burst of laughter. "I’d say so, yeah." He admits. "I've got a speech to deliver."

"Oh yeah? Nervous, then?" Harry lurches to the side to bump his shoulder against Niall's, who tips a bit.

"A bit, yeah." says Niall. "I'm going to make an ass of myself."

"You won't!" Harry assures him. "I have it on good authority that you're pretty confident."

Niall shakes his head. "That's entirely different."

"You can have sex with a complete stranger but you can't talk in front of your friends and family?" Harry smiles. "Is this some kind of emotional problem I should worry about?"

"What do you mean?" Niall questions, but before Harry can answer, Niall is being pulled on the sleeve by a child telling him, "It's time! It's time!"

And Harry gives him a thumbs up and says, "Good luck!"

Before the speech starts, Harry rushes to his seat beside Zayn who greets him with a suspicious eyebrow. "Who were you talking to?"

"Niall." Harry answers.

Zayn nods, absently. "He's cute."

Harry doesn't even try to hide his smug grin. "Unbearably."

Niall's speech goes fairly smooth with some bumpy jokes along the way and Harry is positively grinning by the end. And then Niall is wishing the couple a wonderful life together and the festivities resume.

Zayn drags Harry onto the floor where they dance to the slow jazz playlist and Harry steals Zayn's hat and drinks a lot more and ends up outside of the reception with Zayn lying on the grass while Zayn smokes and they're both rambling about nonsense.

And it's cold and Zayn brags about getting the girl’s number and Harry responds, "She reminds me of Louis." And Zayn says, "Fuck you." And Harry laughs so hard his stomach becomes sore and he's still laughing when Zayn says, "Honestly, mate, he's not even worth it."

And Harry stops rolling on the ground and sits up to see Niall standing beside Zayn who is probably intimidating Niall because Niall is delicate and precious and Zayn is unnecessarily attractive and smokes and has really nice skin.

"Zayn, go away."

"Fine. But you like making terrible decisions so I'm not letting you leave with him." he glances at Niall and shrugs, "No offense, bro."

"None taken." Niall says.

"Wear a fucking condom." Zayn claps Niall on the back, stubs his cigarette on the ground, and returns to the celebration.

Harry pats the ground beside him. "Come sit."

"You've made a mess of your clothes, you idiot." Niall says, frowning.

"If you're so worried here--" he takes off his suit jacket and lies it down on the ground. "Sit now?"

"I--"

"Please?"

Niall obliges but moves Harry's' jacket and puts it in his lap. "You're drunk."

"So are you."

"You're completely smashed."

"Okay, I am a little tipsy." Harry relents, scooting closer to Niall. "Im also cold."

"Harry." Niall says, "I don't know you."

"Would you like to?"

"Not sure yet." Niall says, "We had sex."

"We did. It was nice."

"Still I don't know you."

"Mm. You keep saying that."

"It's an important piece of information."

“I can feel you worrying." Harry presses their sides closer together. "You should stop."

Niall ignores him. "You seem really nice."

"Thanks. I really am."

"But I don't think that..." He stops. "Harry, I'm not sure if--"

"Do you have a girlfriend? A boyfriend? A significant gender free other?" Harry asks.

"No. Don't have any of that."

"Then you should give me your number."

"I don't think that's a good idea. That's what I'm trying to tell you."

"Listen to me, Niall. If you think I'm just going to let you fall off the face of the planet after tonight, then you're really stupid. No - sorry, I don't mean that. You seem very intelligent. Um. Please give me your number so I can keep telling you how intelligent I think you are."

"Oh my God." Niall says, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his phone. "You're probably gonna make me regret this."

"That's my plan like, 100% of the time." He says, “I'm going to hold your hand.”

“Don't do holding hands,” Niall shakes his head.

“Sacrifices have to be made in order to maintain an aesthetic, Niall." Harry explains.

It's common sense, really.


End file.
